It Ends With My Death
by Hidden in the Trees
Summary: A short epilogue to Mary Shelley's novel, Frankenstein. It was written a year ago for an English assignment and was just recently found in my computer.


The cold northern winds attacked him relentlessly as he journeyed onward. His large frame was clearly seen against the barren ground on which he walked. In his arms he cradled large branches from trees

obviously distant from where he was now headed. Ice covered the outside of the bark as well as parts of his own clothing. Yet he did not stop moving. It was as if he had not even noticed the ice. His

expression was one of deep depression beyond what words can describe.

Imprints larger than any many could leave marked his path through the snow, stretching on for as far as the eye could see. They eventually came to an end behind the creature, for no man could appear so

hideous. The branches he had carried were now laid in the snow beside him as he calmly dug toward the frozen earth beneath the snow.

When he finally stood again his gaze focused on the sky above him, "Frankenstein." His voice was harsh but filled with pain, "My creator and my tormentor, I will join you soon." He plucked the wood from its

spot in the snow and with it, jumped down into the hole he had dug only moments ago.

The wood was carefully arranged. The smaller sticks placed to catch before the rest. From his clothing he pulled handfuls of dead grass he had collected prior to his journey north. The grass he placed on top

of everything else. From the bundle he had gathered, he chose two large sticks. One slender and the other wide and cut so it was almost flat. The ice was broken off before he began twisting the slender

one between his hands atop the other. He had not the materials on his person to speed the process and so he settled for this.

Dust from the friction gathered below into a small indent created from the rubbing. Seconds turned into minutes before a spark was seen. The creature gave a weak smile at his almost success and

continued. Another spark was seen and ignited the dust. The creature dropped his stick and knelt down next to the pile of dust, trying to blow it into a flame.

It was only a small flame when he finally succeeded. He continued to blow on it in hopes it would grow. Slowly but surely it did. The grass caught first, followed by the smaller sticks placed beneath it.

Once large enough, the creature stood back up, closer to the fire than would be considered safe. Columns of smoke rose from the hole but none would be around to witness anything that was about to

happen.

The fire caught the edge of the creature's clothing and within moments, it was consumed, the flame starting to travel further upward. He did not make an attempt to put it out and stood perfectly still. He

cringed as the heat reached his skin. "I will join you momentarily, Frankenstein." He muttered. "My life ends here. No other shall suffer at my hands." The flame reached his torso; scraps of burnt cloth fell at

his feet, revealing the burns to his skin underneath.

"Although you, my creator are dead and gone, your memory shall not be erased with my death. It shall live on in those you have met that still remain in this world." A single tear flowed down his face before

disappearing into the fire.

By this point, his body had been entirely consumed by the flames as it ate away at his flesh. Scalding burns covered the parts of him one would have been able to see through the burning fire. Columns of

smoke rose from where he stood, being burned alive. It was painful but he made no attempts at stopping it. He had sworn himself to this fate and intended to follow through on his word to Walton.

No man would ever lay eyes on him again. His ashes would leave no trace for any who may hope to create another being like him; another to be abandoned and hated in this cruel, twisted world. It was a

fate that he felt no one should ever again be subjected to. He knew the pain it caused and wished it upon no one else. He hoped that he would be the last to feel that kind of pain.

He felt his life begin to slip away, the pain consuming all else. With his last breath he uttered a loud cry of pain that could be heard for miles. All fell silent after that. The creature fell to the icy ground, dead.

The flames continued to burn around him. The hole protected them from being blown out by the northern winds.

Within a few hours, the flames had dwindled, and all that was left of the creature was a large pile of ashes. The original fire would go out soon as the walls of the hole began to collapse. Bit by bit, the hole

caved in, covering the fire and the ashes. With a loud hissing sound, the fire was extinguished by the snow, parts melting and quickly refreezing in the cold air.

The ashes were soon covered as well, trapped forever beneath the snow. Just as he had promised, he would never be seen again by man, nor would his ashes leave any clues. The hole caved again, for the

last time. The smoke had long since ceased to rise into the sir, eliminating any chance that someone should know his location.

Never again he had hoped, should anyone be foolish enough to create another like him and let that vicious circle repeat itself. Death, it was not something that those still living should fiddle with. Any attempt

to avoid it could only result in increased pain thereafter. For life, can sometimes be more tormenting than the death they all seemed to fear. The late Victor Frankenstein, had known that fact all too well.


End file.
